


Starting Today

by calla_lilalma



Category: Black Clover - Tabata Yuki (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Canon Universe, Established Relationship, Hair Braiding, Implied Sexual Content, Intimacy, Jewelry, Kissing, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Unspecified Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:47:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22861981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calla_lilalma/pseuds/calla_lilalma
Summary: How new habits are formed.
Relationships: Fuegoleon Vermillion/Nozel Silva
Comments: 22
Kudos: 163





	Starting Today

**Author's Note:**

> Hei!!  
> There time this takes place in is kept vague so it can be somewhere in before, in between or after canon, or in a semi AU where canon events never happen. There is no wrong choice.  
> Comments and Kudos are welcome!  
> Hope you enjoy! :)

The moment Fuegoleon stirs awake, the morning light bursting through the curtains greets him.

Slowly blinking away the heaviness of sleep, the rest of his senses follow in their awakening; the summer breeze is rustling the trees outside, the familiar sweet and soft scent of orchids is pleasantly surrounding him and the source of warmth pressed against his body as well and gentle caressing his hair and nape. All making up for a paradisal state to be in.

He hums in satisfaction and presses his face further deeper into the pale planes of naked skin in front of him, inhaling that calming scent further, never getting enough of it.

At the hints given that he’s awake, the fingers on his head stop their movements, much to his displeasure. A light chuckle vibrates from the chest he’s resting on.

“You can let go now.” Nozel’s dulcet voice caresses his ears, as clear from awareness as it can be while recovering after their sexual activities and hinted with impatience.

Fuegoleon doesn’t answer, he tightens his grips on him, his palms settle on his back, keeping him in place instead. One of his arms is starting to grow numb from having Nozel lay on it for some time, but it’s a small price to pay for feeling the tranquil rise and fall of his chest.

He doesn’t enjoy it for nearly as long as he craved, forced to look up at Nozel by the grip pulling back at his hair. A shiver runs from there, down his spine and settles as undeniable heat in his belly.

“Always such an early bird.” Fuegoleon murmurs groggily under his jaw. Since he could remember, Nozel has been an early riser, and the instance when Fuegoleon would catch him asleep are rare and precious like gems.

“It’s early in the evening.” Nozel adds, impatience now soaking his words.

Fuegoleon catches the pouty lips on a kiss, a light peck that swallows Nozel’s huff of exasperation.

When they pull away, Nozel’s face is fond and his arms come around him to keep him there and Fuegoleon’s heart swells at his lover.

_No_ , he reminds himself, mind still fighting of the last haze of sleep, _not simply his lover now._

_His newly wedded husband._

For a moment, it appears unbelievable. That the wish he had declared to make real then as a young boy, already confident of his heart’s place and to whom it belonged to, was fulfilled.

Yet two decades later, here they are. As he traps Nozel under him, the crimson earring on the shell of his right ear is glimmering under the sunbeams, the intricate miniscule engravings making their appearance, it’s real and tangible and in his arms and his heart is bursting with affection. From the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of further proof in the shape of Nozel’s wedding dress, properly folded and place in its own corner next to his own messier pile. Fuegoleon’s first urge wanted to rip it off Nozel was all-consuming in its eagerness to officiate their wedding night as soon as possible, but he chose to carefully unwrapped it from his husband; to be saved and kept pristine for the years to come. So that they can see it and remember one of their happiest days.

He dives back in to capture rosy lips, with more hunger this time, their bodies cling to each other, inseparable by nothing. The heat is spreading inside him, transforming the affection to lust and arousal.

Before he can retrace the fading marks he’s made on Nozel’s neck and collarbones, complete the missing stars in the constellations he himself formed time and time again, Nozel stops him in his tracks, placing his fingers over Fuegoleon’s lips.

“We have to be back soon.” He admonishes in a breathless voice, his eyes fogged with mirrored arousal that he tries to suppress.

Fuegoleon groans as the full recollection of the date comes to him like a douse of freezing water and he falls to nuzzle Nozel’s neck. Today, their honeymoon ends; reduced to a week as it was already because it’d be risky and reasonably reckless for two captains to be off duty for a full month. Fortunately, with the help of both of their sisters who had volunteered to take over their respective squads, they had come to an arrangement that granted them a significant period of time to enjoy their wedlock.

And it has been a wonderful week, every minute of it; they haven’t left the walls of the place they stayed, but were sure to acquaint themselves with all its surfaces thoroughly.

They had done a great job at making themselves let go for those seven days and now that they are over and they have to be back resembles a cruel joke. It’s their duty and they would never ignore it, however moments like these are rare and easily addictive.

By the reluctance in Nozel’s movements and eyes alike, the way that his touch lingers on his skin, it’s not hard for Fuegoleon to see how they share the sentiment.

Fuegoleon joins him in the bath, his chest on Nozel’s back and embracing him from behind, soaking together in the warm water, with its warmth relaxing the last of the tension. And no matter how much he wanted to enjoy a last round of sex, there is a different kind of incredibility on the silent type of intimacy just being close to each other elicits that is as much, if not more, welcome. Just having Nozel with him, his presence putting him at peace just as he always did for years without any words needed to be spoken.

At some point, Nozel turns to face him and expressed his sudden interest to wash his hair. His heart skips in quiet anticipation at the quiet commands to stay still and his eyes fall closed without him realizing as he only feels the gentle pressure of Nozel’s fingertips massaging his scalp. When he opens them again while rinsing, he doesn’t forget to plant a kiss to Nozel’s cheek in gratitude.

“We aren’t finished yet.” Is all Nozel’s responds with. The determination in his beautiful amethyst eyes puzzles him.

Even more so when Nozel pushes him to sit on the edge of the bed after he ties his shirt on, “Stay still.” He demands as he starts to work on him.

Fuegoleon obeys and once more his hair is being tended to. Nozel combs away any potential knots from his still unkept vermilion strands with the look of a man on a mission. All Fuegoleon can do at the moment is wonder and marvel at his husband’s lovely features while his hands on Nozel’s hips keep him in place, his thumbs tracing circles at the sliver of flesh exposed.

When the brush’s movements stop the tool is placed away, Nozel’s fingers take its place and maneuver his mane on one side, obviously forgoing styling it as usual. For a moment he feels nothing happening but he then follows at Nozel’s eyes downwards and his eyes widen in astonishment at the carefully and expertly forming braid.

Nozel’s lips quirk up at his reaction “Why are you so surprised?” He asks casually, “Haven’t I told you keep your hair long?” A pinkish hue dusts his cheekbones, more so on the tips of his ears.

Only once before, Fuegoleon remembers somberly. When his hair first started to grow out and it became troublesome in sparring and annoying to get used to, he had chopped it off. The offended and disgruntled expression in Nozel’s face and the mean way he stated that it doesn’t suit him has remained one of the most vivid memories from his childhood, as well as his sister’s wheezing laughter at his suffering.

“You’ve never did it before, that’s all.” He responds with a growing smile of his own. “What brought this on?” While it is true that Nozel hands find themselves on his hair frequently, playing with it for comfort, often absentmindedly so, or pulling it in their heated moments alike, it’s the first time he’s actually sat him down to braid it. That was a luxury only Leopold was granted, much to Fuegoleon’s envy.

The flush becomes less subtle, turning into a light red that maps across his face from ear to ear.

“It’s,” he looks down at his fingers finishing his craft instead of Fuegoleon’s face, “It’s because I saved the first time for a unique occasion.”

At the end of the long braid resting on his shoulder, the all too familiar Silva cross is tied at the end, an accurate replica of the one resting on Nozel’s cute nose.

Like the pieces of a puzzle, the full picture is formed in his mind. Knowledge stored deep down emerges from the surface and gives all sense and logic to Nozel’s current actions.

Unlike his family, the Silva house’s tradition is to give their intended spouse their house jewelry, a cross that is a complete replica of the one Silva member’s they are getting married with, after the ceremony. More specifically in the morning after; to wear visibly and appear to the world from the new day on as a part of the family as well and to who they are tied with.

He feels affronted with himself that he didn’t piece it together sooner. Yet it doesn’t nearly reach the overwhelming amount of pride and affection for what this little blue cross signifies.

Perhaps among his eagerness to enjoy Nozel freely for even a cherished second longer, time after the present became an irrelevant afterthought. Perhaps in that line, it was a wise decision to give it now instead of the actual first day, as Nozel’s wayward hands would untie it again either way.

“It’d be pointless to give it the morning after, as it’d stay unused. We…we didn’t leave here during those past days.” The flush travelling down to Nozel’s pale neck charmingly shows how attuned their thoughts are, “Thus, I chose the day we officially go out to the world for the first time.”

They may have left the capital and their loved ones after their wedding ceremony, but now that the transitional festivities have settled down, they’ll both be considered bonded to each other.

_An official part of the family._ He touches the cross, heavy for its size that shows the purity of its material. Fuegoleon may be close with Nozel’s immediate family already, by the officiation adds a different ring to it. Steadier than he even thought they could be, with visible proof on the both of them from now on.

“It suits you.” Nozel whispers to the air between them, his voice warm and tender and satisfied, as if there was ever any doubt of Fuegoleon not wearing this with pride.

He makes sure to kiss every bit of that reservation away just in case, replace it with the ever-present love and certainty Fuegoleon bears for him since he can remember himself.

Nozel’s eyes are closed when he pulls back and when he opens them Fuegoleon feels like the strongest man in the world and unafraid of anything, not when he can chase way Nozel’s darker thoughts.

With a last eyeful of his work and pulls Fuegoleon to stand and see for himself in the mirror.

It’s not a life changing change appearance wise, but it feels like it. The newly added speck of blue is fully harmonious with the rest of his standard robes and the Crimson Lion’s one as he puts them on. As if it always belonged here. Especially next to Nozel, whose jewelry of both families is just as clear and visible of their union.

Fuegoleon keeps him within his immediate reach -having their moments together until they have to walk out the door ticking out like the final grains of sand in the hourglass gives him a type of urgency and unable to keep his hands off his beloved husband- holding his face tenderly and kissing him with the intention of leaving him breathless and aware of how much he’s loved.

And he firmly believes he achieved it, by the splendid, shiny eyes looking back at him and he lack of tension on his shoulders.

“We’ll be late if we don’t leave now.” The words are even less firm and convincing than the first time.

“Worried about Nebra?” he teases.

Nozel snorts, “I’m more worried about her breaking my squad. As should you worry about your own.”

Fuegoleon doesn’t want to leave either, but at the same time, Nozel is right. His squad has been under his sister’s mercy for longer than any place holds her and he’d like to find his subordinates as sane and healthy and as little of a collateral damage as possible.

In addition, he feels excited to show off how he belongs to Nozel just as much as Nozel belongs to him to everyone.

“Then until tonight.” He offers, smiling at the thought of their newly built quarters, separated from their houses and granting them their privacy, away from meddlesome siblings.

Nozel hums in contentment and tugs on his braid with mild force to keep his head down, something he immediately finds out he greatly enjoys. “Don’t lose it.”

He brings the hand to his lips, “Never. Only your hands and their care are allowed.”

“You are perfectly capable by yourself.” Nozel’s lips pull into a particularly tight line, one meaning he tries to suppress his smile, “Even Leopold learnt after the third try.”

Fuegoleon grins and shakes his head, “Why should I learn when I can have my talented husband’s touch be the last thing before I sleep and the first thing before I start my day?”

This time the smile wins out, shyly but beautifully spreading on his ruddy cheeks. Once more, he pulls Fuegoleon from his braid into a demanding, feverish kiss of his own- _oh Fuegoleon definitely revels in this-_ his hand sliding to its end and thumb caressing the cross.

“Is that a promise then, Fuegoleon Vermillion-Silva?” their lips brush in every word.

He grins and takes the hand to brush his lips on the pulse, elevated under his lips, just like his own, and the other caressing the decorated shell of his ear, relishing in the feeling of the cold metal and gemstones.

“It is, Nozel Silva-Vermillion.” Fuegoleon vows. He aims to keep it forever.

**Author's Note:**

> I just saw official art (merch iirc) with Fuegoleon with a braid and I felt it was a duty to myself and a form of self care to write this.
> 
> Tumblr @ callalilalma
> 
> Thanks for reading! :D


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